


You Are The Waitress at the Diner of a Haunted Truck Stop

by clipper782



Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepypasta, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clipper782/pseuds/clipper782
Summary: Re-Posted from TumblrThis was meant to be more creepypasta-esque but then I wrote it and it wasn't scary so that's out.Basically exactly what it says on the title.





	You Are The Waitress at the Diner of a Haunted Truck Stop

You are a waitress at the diner of a haunted truck stop. Your stop has been featured in more than one top list of haunted truck stops across the nation. You take a sort of small town pride in it. Your diner even has a bulletin board dedicated to the haunting, newspaper articles and write-up explanations, like a mini haunting museum. There’s even a picture of you from when you were younger and into that sort of thing. People sometimes see it and give you a double take. “Is that you?” They ask. Time changes a lot. Its certainly dulled your interest in such things but you will still boast pridefully if they bring it up.

Apparently, you’ve heard, truck stops are ripe for hauntings. They count as something called liminal spaces. A place where many people come through and leave again. A gateway between places. Somewhere no one ever really stays.

You aren’t so sure about that. While you do have high turnover, especially during the summer months, you’ve been working here for 25 years, give or take. The head cook in the back has been around even longer, and while you do spend a lot of time training the new recruits, him in the back and you up front, there’s nothing liminal about the two of you. There’s talk of haunting in the restroom, that you wouldn’t know since you use the one in the diner for staff, but you do know the couple who does the cleaning for the main truck stop restrooms. They too have been doing it forever. Long ago immigrants from somewhere in the middle east, they are friendly enough when you happen to cross paths, and they’ve never noticed anything strange. To them, they say, its nothing but another restroom along a desolate patch of highway.

Most people that come through don’t really care about the particulars of the so-called haunting, if they even bother with it at all. Some show mild interest, browsing the bulletin board while sipping their coffee. But there were some, a very select few, who found themselves at the diner with a very strict purpose in mind.

There were four of them, in the dead heat of summer. They came in a rundown old camper that might have been yellow, or maybe once white. It was hard to tell. They had three camcorders, all different brands and models, and a bunch of equipment that looked like it should belong on the set of “Ghostbusters”. Most people tried to ignore them and go about their own lives. You offered them coffee, or perhaps some iced tea to offset the heat.

“Not now, we’re busy.” Said the boy with the dark hair and tracksuit. He was probably the closest thing to a leader these kids had. You heard them call him Jackson. Jackson spoke and the other three listened.

“Shouldn’t we bring something back for Abby?” One of the two girls asked. She had long black hair and a Korean accent, possibly an exchange student.

“Abby’ll be fine. She’s just a little sick. Not like she’s dying or anything. There’s food in the camper. We have to get set up here.” Jackson prattled off his excuses one by one. You could tell the few other patrons you had just wanted them to leave. You knew they wouldn’t. Not until they got what they came here for.

“Su Yin, take Andy and go to the restrooms, me and Gina will take care of things here.” Su Yin reluctantly did so, Andy, a dark-skinned boy with a slight afro, grabbed one of the camcorders and followed her out.

Gina was tall and blond and young. She stood up, cleared her throat, and got everyone’s attention. Everyone’s including yours. She said she needed to interview everyone, and if everyone could all comply nicely, that would be great.

You found yourself with a camera shoved in your face. Jackson was quizzing you on a variety of things, such as where you lived, when you were born, what hobbies you had, who was the president. Trying to make sure you weren’t a ghost yourself. You weren’t. Neither was the cook, or the summer staff, or any of the unfortunate patrons. Jackson seemed satisfied eventually. Gina smiled, apologized, and asked if you had seen anything unusual around.

You said you hadn’t. Although you supposed this in and of itself counted as unusual, you weren’t sure the kids would appreciate your answer.

At the end of all the interviews, the other two came back into the diner. Again you offered them refreshments but Jackson ushered them all out and back to the camper.

“Shouldn’t they at least buy something?” A younger waitress said to you as you moved past her into the kitchen.

You gave her a small smile. “They never do.” You replied. The younger waitress sighed. That’s just what happens when you work at a haunted truck stop diner.

The lights in the camper were still on when you left for the night. You could hear them shuffling around. You felt a pang of sympathy for them. They weren’t going to find anything here. Whatever had brought them to this place wasn’t something you had ever sensed in all your years working here. No camcorders or ghostbusters equipment was going to change that.

They were still there the next day, and the next after that. You saw them around, filming this and that, trying to sneak into places they didn’t belong. They got into a fight with the owner of the diner about whether they should be allowed to come in after hours to film at midnight or whatever. Eventually they got permission, but only because the owner was tired of arguing with them. They were very persistent. You were chosen to stay and supervise though. You didn’t mind. As long as you didn’t have to work again in the morning.

They ran through the building that night with all the lights off, bumping into chairs and tables and then yelling about being touched by spirits. It was amusing, if you had to be honest. You couldn’t help but laugh. Jackson reprimanded you, reminding you that they were doing serious business. You couldn’t take him seriously though. He was only a college kid after all, spending his summer break looking for ghosts in a truck stop diner.

The next day was when things got weird. Or at least, what you figured would pass for weird. Three of them, Jackson, Andy, and Gina, went off to film in the woods. Probably they had tried to do it during the night and gotten hopelessly lost. Su Yin stayed in the trailer, ostensibly to look after Abby, their sick friend no one had yet laid eyes on. But while you were serving sunny side up eggs to a couple of truckers, you saw her out the window, sneaking out of the trailer and heading towards the restrooms. Were restrooms really all that spooky? You didn’t think so. Unless someone had just taken a really big–

You went over to the restroom on your break. Su Yin hadn’t returned yet. It had been a while.

You found her in a pile of broken glass, her fist bleeding from, presumably, punching through the mirror. In her bleeding hand she clutched a piece of glass.

“There was something there!” She screamed at you, running past you. She ran into the diner.

The patrons were more than a bit shocked to see a young woman running in hysterical and dripping blood. You tried to calm her down.

“There’s something here! Something evil! Its living in this place!”

You took Su Yin into the back and got here cleaned up. You wrapped her hands up. You sat her at a table, close to the kitchen and far from other diners. You pour her a coffee. She doesn’t touch it. She just kind of lets you do all this stuff, just staring off into space.

“There was something there…” She tells you quietly, as you sit beside her. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what she saw. Did she even see anything at all, or was it just her mind playing tricks on her? You will probably never know.

Jackson bursts through the door. “Su Yin what the fuck!” He yells. You try to block him, but he continues anyway. You wish he wouldn’t, but you suppose he must.

“You were supposed to be in the camper! You were supposed to be watching her!” You let it play out.

“I… what?”

“Abby! She’s gone!”

“What? Gone? I don’t… She was asleep!”

“Well not anymore! You know she was delirious, who knows what could have happened to her?”

The four of them began a frantic search for their friend. You felt sympathy for them, you really did. But you knew they weren’t going to find her.

After turning inside out the restrooms, the diner, and every vehicle unfortunate enough to be present, they decided she must have gone into the woods. They asked for a search party. No one volunteered.

They spent hours in those woods, looking for their lost friend. And with every minute they were gone you felt your heart sink. You felt worse and worse. But there was nothing you could do.

“It took her!” You hear Jackson yell. Finally. Finally. “It took her down to the ravine! That’s where it lives! Or… where it died!” He ran across the lot, and into the camper. The other three followed him. You felt a sharp pang in your chest when Jackson sped out of the lot, leaving tracks on the grass where he took the turn too sharply. You go back to waiting tables. You do still have hungry patrons.

Not half an hour later a young couple rushes in. “We didn’t know where else to go!” says the woman. “There’s no service and we don’t know the nearest town and…”

The man picks up, “We saw… we saw a camper. It drove off the road. Into the ravine. We need to call the police. An ambulance. Something… We looked down to see but…”

You give them a small smile. You gesture towards the bulletin board, and an article ‘4 Dead in Ravine Crash’ dated today’s date 1988. “Only a ghost sighting,” you say. “Happens every year on this day.”

They don’t look completely convinced. “Call the police if you like. We’re a sleepy area. An investigation won’t hurt.” The man rushes into the back where you indicate the phone is. The woman is still looking at the board, squinting at a photo: 'Abby Wrenn, survivor, found 200 yards down the ravine, asleep’.

“Hey…” She asks, turning to you. “Is that you?”


End file.
